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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783901">Endings, Beginnings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF, Youtuber RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Background Poly, Background Relationships, Confessions, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Roller Coaster, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Feels, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Krymménos, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pre-Ethmyplier, Pre-Poly, Relationship Negotiations, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Screen Reader Compatible, Screen Reader Friendly, Sexuality, Sexuality Crisis, Unus Annus, crankiplier - Freeform, emotional angst, unus annus era</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 13:48:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All things must end. But to end, they must also have begun.<br/>And for some, the end of one means the beginning of another.<br/><i>Alternatively; the end of Unus Annus means the new beginning of Mark and Ethan.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Endings, Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As always this work is intended creatively and is not an accurate reflection of nor intended in any disrespect towards the persons mentioned; their family; their friends; their representatives or their significant others. Please do not send this work to any of the aforementioned persons.</p><p>I've sat on this one for a very long time, and after some refining I've decided that it deserves to be released into the wild. I'm a complete sucker for the romanticism of realised feelings. I wrote this during the hours after the final stream.<br/>-JJH</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was four in the morning by the time he went home to an empty, dark house. He felt suspended between elation and being hollowed out, stuck somewhere between grief and peace. </p><p>Spencer licked his palm as he locked the door and he stooped, folding like wet parchment to his knees and wrapping his arms around his neck, fresh tears salting his already red-raw eyes. </p><p>He didn't know how long he sat there, breathing and crying and processing. Birds chirped outside and time had lost all meaning, despite the echo of the timer ever present in his ears. The sunlight streamed through the windows and it was just...Another day. </p><p>He let go of Spencer with a deep breath, threading his fingers through his soft fur and feeling the crinkle of the tattoo wrap on his arm. The weight of the watch in his pocket. His heartbeat felt like a drum inside his chest and every time the heavy sleeve of the suit rubbed against his arm it stung.</p><p>He wondered what to do with the suit. </p><p>It didn’t feel right to just...Throw it away. Bury it, dead and gone, like Mark wanted to. </p><p>He ached like he’d lost part of himself already. They’d never go back to that, he knew. All those hours spent together, the bonding, both of them one half of the same entity, entwining together until Ethan had almost forgotten where he ended and Mark started </p><p>He’d thought, for a fleeting second during the stream, that Mark was actually about to get down on one knee and propose to Amy. </p><p>He felt guilty for how much sadness that caused him. His own filthy little secret, tucked into the darkest corner he could stuff it, buried under guilt and fear. </p><p>Spencer licked at his palm again and he ruffled the fur of his neck before pulling himself to his feet. Everything ached. His eyes stung. His throat felt like he’d swallowed razor blades. It would fade, that he knew. Time would march on as an unstoppable force and slowly the wound would heal. But it would scar, thick and pink and deep, and he would feel it always. </p><p>He poured some kibble into Spencer’s bowl and gave him fresh water and then leaned against the cold marble of the kitchen countertop, staring out of the window at the bright, morning sky. Just another day. Just another twenty-four hours. All those seconds ticking by as he stood there and stared and breathed. </p><p>Eventually he found the strength to move and dragged himself up the stairs, to the cold sheets still rumpled from where he’d gotten out of bed two days ago and more or less gone straight out to the unit to set it up for the stream.</p><p>Mark would be wrapped up in Amy’s arms by now. Maybe still awake, having a deep and meaningful conversation. Maybe that was when he’d propose. In secret and in private, tucked against her body in the bed they’d shared for almost six years. He couldn’t find it in himself to even undress. The unit had been so hot but now he felt somewhere between neutral and cold. Like he’d let himself lay in the bath for too long and the heat was slowly fading.</p><p>He plugged his phone in then collapsed down on his bed, cheek against his pillow and blanket half-heartedly draped over himself, staring blankly across at the wall opposite his bed. Bundled up in the corner he could see one of Mark’s hoodies from earlier in the week, when he’d come over to help Ethan edit and had spilt soda down it. </p><p>He wondered how long it would take before he faded into the background of Mark’s existence again, like a ghost.</p><p>He almost wished the ‘entity’ of Annus was real. </p><p>At least then he’d have someone. </p><p>Someone he didn’t have to feel guilty for wanting. </p><p>He didn’t know how long he lay there, listening to the quiet background noise and wading through the murky depths of his mind. It was a vast space void of thoughts, an endless downward spiral he couldn’t claw himself back out of. Not alone. </p><p>His phone beeped. That four second snippet of the Unus Annus theme that had replaced the previous sound of Mark screaming. He tipped his head up and dragged his gaze upwards towards his phone, staring at the tiny flashing light. For a short while he debated on ignoring it; it was likely just Mark asking if he was alright, if he’d got home safe, or sending him some random meme or tag.</p><p>Exhaling, he reached for his phone. </p><p>
  <strong>[Mark Fischbach]<br/>Are you awake?<br/>[05:12]</strong>
</p><p>He stared at it for a short while, tempted to scroll back up through all the messages, the thousands of hours of talking about Unus Annus, their friendship, their growth. To see Mark saying I’m proud of you once more. </p><p>
  <strong>[Me]</strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>Yeah.</strong>
  <br/>
  <strong>[05:23]</strong>
</p><p>He set the phone aside and let himself fall limp again, sinking back into the vast, empty space between his head and his heart. He didn’t regret Unus Annus. Not a single moment of it - Although perhaps he regretted that they couldn’t do some of the funnier or more interesting videos they’d planned, but he was happy in the fact that they’d given their all in what they could do. </p><p>In between the space of his heartbeats, he thought he heard his door open. </p><p>Wistful thinking. Maybe it was even the sound of a coffin lid opening. </p><p>God, the lore had gotten so out of hand. And they could have done so much with that. </p><p>"Ethan?" </p><p>Being wrenched away from that sticky-slow, timeless space in his mind was like jumping into a frozen lake. He wagered that gravelly, low voice could pull him out of a coma, such as it was engraved into his bones. </p><p>He shifted and turned his head from the pillow, looking blearily up at the doorway. Mark stood there, looking tired and worn down but impossibly soft in a large hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. His hair was messy and framed his face like a black halo, angelic in a fallen sort of way. </p><p>It took him a solid moment to realise that Mark was actually there. Not a dream or hallucination. Actually there. </p><p>"Mark?" he whispered, wincing at how jagged his voice sounded as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He'd cried for so long.</p><p>He'd locked the door, so Mark must have used his key. </p><p>"Hey, bud. I'm sorry, I should have asked. But…" Mark trailed off, looking small and lost in the doorway. Ethan pushed himself fully up, loosening his tie as he blinked across at Mark. </p><p>"No, its okay. What's wrong? Did something happen?" He breathed as he rubbed at his eyes, casting a quick glace around the room. It was still broad daylight and at some point Spencer had come into the room, because he was now snuffling intently at Mark’s feet, poking around for the treats that Mark so often brought him. </p><p>Mark sucked in a deep breath and seemed to fall deep into thought for a moment, gaze fixed on the wall above Ethan’s head. There was a long pause before he spoke again, voice rough.</p><p>“Actually... Sort of? A lot of things have happened. I’m sorry, this so isn’t the right way to go about this, but I just... I wasn’t brave enough earlier. And leaving it even longer doesn’t feel right”. </p><p>He felt impossibly colder. God, this was it, wasn’t it? Mark was done with Unus Annus and he’d decided he was done with Ethan too. This was when the polite request not to film together came, this was the start of the landslide that meant he’d just be a figment of Mark’s life left behind, abandoned on a shelf somewhere and forgotten about. </p><p>His face must’ve become a glowing billboard for his thoughts because Mark’s own expression twisted and he lurched to clarify.</p><p>“Oh! God, <em>no</em>. Eth, its not... You look <em>horrified</em>. I swear its nothing bad. Its just... Something... Big. Very big. And I should be going about this in a much, much better way. But I’m selfish and Unus Annus really made me think about some things”.</p><p>Mark’s voice had gone soft by the end of it, and he looked tired once more. The dark purple under his eyes looked almost painted on as he padded further into the room, taking a seat on the bottom edge of Ethan’s bed and dropping his head into his hands. </p><p>The speech did nothing to soothe the almost painful way that his heart hammered in his chest, or the hollowed out feeling of anxiety that settled deep within him like a bowl of writhing worms, but he still made an effort to shuffle across the space between them, making it clear that Mark had his full attention and ignoring the urge to reach out to him. Mark wasn’t overly a tactile person, and often someone’s presence was enough to be comforting. </p><p>“You’re kind of scaring me,” he admitted quietly, wringing the comforter between his hands nervously. He got anxiety over something as small as making coffee right; so to have Mark here, unusually unannounced, sitting on his bed and looking like someone had just died...He felt like he was either going to throw up or pass out. </p><p>“I know. I’m sorry. I just... Its never been this hard before. To find words. To... To approach something like this. I had a plan. I had so many plans”.</p><p>That sounded like Mark, at least. Even if his plans were made directly on the spot, he always had a plan for whatever he was going to do. They fell into a lapse of silence, both locked in their own minds as they tried to process and adjust to the current situation. Spencer leapt up onto the bed, despondent about the lack of treats but content enough to curl up and sleep. </p><p>Mark took another deep breath. </p><p>“I’ve... Fuck. I feel like you. I can’t get the fucking words out." He laughed but it was hollow and almost angry, and Ethan curled in on himself a little, eyes wide and wet when Mark looked up at him. Seeing him look so fragile the older man gave him a weakly reassuring smile. </p><p>“I know. I’m trying. I just... Unus Annus put so much into perspective for me. Especially the stream. This past year…” He trailed off again but now he just looked wistful, almost... Content. Like whatever he was thinking about was something pleasant. </p><p>“I couldn’t have thought of anyone better to do it with than you. And that might sound like bullshit - I know I’m friends with a lot of people. A lot of <em>great</em> people. But you and I... I said that was part of what made it so special. Us. Me and you, doing it together. You were so charismatic, so energetic, you just... You got what it was about, immediately. You understood and you were vibrant, and it was so <em>easy</em> to play off you”.</p><p>The praise made Ethan flush a little, shifting where he sat. He wasn’t good with praise - He craved it but it made him feel awkward. He longed for every word but he also doubted them, doubted their validity. </p><p>Mark sounded so <em>earnest</em>. </p><p>“Mark…”</p><p>“Let me finish. Please,” Mark requested, running a hand through his hair. If he didn’t keep talking it would all dissolve into a mess. </p><p>“I just... I need you to know that. I need you to know what it meant to me, that it was you by my side for this. You were so... You were always a key component of so many things. You’ve always been so welcome and so well matched to this friendship group. To me."</p><p>"And I couldn’t... I meant everything I said. That I’m proud of you, that I can’t wait to see what you do with your life, that I trust you. So utterly and completely”. Mark shifted on the bed, then, hitching one knee against the comforter, turned to face him fully.</p><p>“And. And I meant that I love you”.</p><p>It was Ethan’s breath that hitched this time, loud and obnoxious in the room. His raw eyes were already blurry, and a single tear made its way determinedly down his face. Hearing Mark say those words for the first time in that video, meaning them so truly instead of using them to joke around after Ethan made him laugh or did something so amusingly stupid...He’d had to sit down for several moments afterwards in silence, processing. </p><p>“And I’ve...I think somewhere along the line, without me even realising it, <em>how</em> I love you changed. And maybe I didn’t notice because it was so natural it was just...How it was <em>meant</em> to be.”</p><p>Mark shifted then, closer, facing him fully with the determined look in his eye that he got whenever he was about to say something serious, something impactful.</p><p>"I've always thought I was straight. Being able to recognise that a man has attractive features doesn't mean finding him personally, actively attractive. Sexually. Or romantically," Mark began.</p><p>"I know," Ethan echoed hollowly. His own journey with his sexuality hadn't been linear. There'd been a lot of realising that his attraction to specific men ran deeper than quite literal 'face value'. But his thoughts were stuck on those first six words. </p><p>
  <em> I've always thought I was straight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I've always thought. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thought. </em>
</p><p>"-as just getting to know you. I thought that this is what it meant to love someone. <em>Philia</em>, right? The love of one's friendship." Mark was rambling, which was ordinarily a trait reserved for Ethan. </p><p>"But it's not."</p><p>Mark was looking at him now, his gaze the only thing that anchored Ethan where he felt weightless and floating, adrift in waters he had no compass nor stars to navigate. His heart was pounding and he felt sick. It wasn't entirely implausible that he wasn't still dreaming, and the thought terrified him.</p><p>"Hey, no, stop," Mark's voice dropped into a soothing, low tone as he reached out, stilling Ethan's arm where he'd moved to pinch the inside of his wrist nervously, hoping to find proof that this reality was true. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I know this is a lot, and I get it if you don't feel the same way."</p><p>"The same as what?" Ethan whispered, sitting on his other hand so he didn't do something stupid like reach out and trace the curve of Mark's brow.</p><p>Mark paused.</p><p>"Have you...Did you zone out? Are you too tired? I can come back later if you're too tired for this."</p><p>They both knew that if Mark left now there was no chance that Ethan would rest. It would leave both of them pent up and churning over the worst of thoughts, working themselves into more and more of a state and potentially ruining the relative ease of the current conversation. No doubt Ethan would just end up calling and begging for Mark to explain regardless, and Mark had already stated that this was neither something that could be said over the phone nor something that could wait. </p><p>"Okay," Mark acquiesced to the silent agreement, running a hand through his hair. </p><p>"I was... This is my confession? Of my feelings for you. This is me sucking up how terrified this whole thing makes me feel, and telling you that somewhere along the line I stopped loving you and started falling in love with you."</p><p>And.</p><p>Ethan blinked, suddenly void of the ability to do anything except stare. Head empty, no thoughts. Just the desperate, blind panic of hoping that this wasn't some kind of sleep-deprived hallucination or dream. </p><p>"Ethan?" Mark prompted after a moment, voice quiet. "I'd... I know this will take some processing, but I'd <em>really</em> appreciate it if you could say something. Anything. Even if it's just a request for time alone to think."</p><p>Yeah. Saying something right now would be good. Except for a moment, Ethan couldn't think of a single damn thing, and then everything seemed to come to mind at once. Of all the ways that Ethan had ever imagined him and Mark progressing beyond friends, an intense heart-to-heart wasn't exactly the highest on his list. He wasn't the stuttering fool he consistently made himself out to be on camera, but he also wasn't amazing at speeches when he didn't have the ability to simply do a re-take or edit.</p><p>Mark looked exhausted and wary, undereyes smudged purple and blue, slumped where he sat, as if this conversation was taking what little energy he still had in reserve after their colossal twelve hour effort. He'd seen Mark burnt out more than a few times, but something about this seemed different. This wasn't just Mark run down and needing some time to rest and recover - this was Mark was his heart on his sleeve, vulnerable in a way and for a reason that Ethan had never seen before.</p><p>It was then that Ethan remembered that Mark was very much in a committed relationship.</p><p>"Amy-" he squeaked, panic building in his chest. </p><p>"Knows," Mark cut in, voice edged with desperation. "Fuck, I swear. She knows. She told me to come here."</p><p>Mark sucked in a shaky breath and gave a watery laugh, wiping at his eyes. And fuck, but it crushed Ethan to know that over the course of Unus Annus' last weeks, Mark had cried more times than he had in the entire time that Ethan had known him. He cautiously shuffled across the bed, noting distantly that Spencer had fucked off back downstairs and away from their emotional bullshit. Mark was trembling when Ethan set a hand on his shoulder and the touch seemed to wrench a soft sound out of him.</p><p>"Amy's known for... For a while, actually. Maybe even longer than I have," Mark sighed, voice wobbling. "She was going to be there. When I got my shit together and told you. But during the livestream, I just couldn't stop thinking about you. About the future. And I couldn't hold it in any longer."</p><p>"And she's... Okay with it? Whatever 'it' is?" Ethan asked weakly. Mark's expression morphed into something soft, adoring. He tried to ignore the jealousy that tugged low in his gut. </p><p>"Yeah," Mark uttered gently. "She's amazing. I don't know what I ever did to deserve her. And I don't know... I don't know how you feel about her. Or even more - for once, you've been pretty fucking quiet," Mark gave a slightly hollow laugh. "But whatever happens, she's willing to work something out. Together or separate. Polyamory, I guess."</p><p><em>Polyamory</em>. </p><p>He tried to imagine it. He wasn't stupid, he knew it would be AmyandAmy and Ethan, foremost. Not AmyandMarkandEthan. Because if Mark came to the realisation that it wasn't working or his feelings weren't what he thought they were, and everything collapsed, it would be Ethan back on the outside, back alone and looking in on what he so desperately wanted but couldn't have. </p><p>Except it would be worse, because he'd have primary experience of what it was like to have, instead of just dreams. </p><p>"You're crying," Mark croaked, reaching out. His thumbs were gentle as he brushed under Ethan's eyes, and if not for the callouses on his thumbs, Ethan might not have felt the touch at all. </p><p>"So are you," Ethan whispered, although it wasn't quite true. Mark's tears had yet to fall, even if his eyes were so glossy that he could see himself in them.</p><p>"I want you to know that whatever you decide, or however long it takes you to... To actually respond to anything I've said today, it's okay. I'll wait. And I'll respect whatever you want," Mark added, voice low and almost secretive. Somehow they were facing each other, knees and thighs pressed together, the space between them scant. </p><p>"And if... If it's the two of us, or the three of us... Whatever, I want you to know you're not going to be a side dish," Mark continued, prompting a weak laugh. Ethan's chest squeezed, constricting his lungs and the fragile heart that beat within him. </p><p>"Maybe it'll take a while to work it out. Boundaries and things. And... I love Amy. That'll never change. But I love you too. And honestly? That... How I love you has changed. But I can't imagine myself <em>not</em> loving you." It seemed to be the last of Mark's steam, the older man slumping a little as he let out a rushed breath, hands wringing in his own lap. </p><p>"How do you know love me?" Ethan found himself asking, voice distant to his own ears. </p><p>"Like..." Mark shifted a little, a smile not dissimilar to the one he'd worn when he spoke about Amy curving his mouth. "When I think about the future, I always think about you, too. Waking up with Amy's hair in my face and you drooling on my arm. Buying a house with a bigger garden, maybe somewhere closer to the outskirts, where all the dogs have really got room to run around and play together. I think about coming home to you. When you're ready. <em>If</em> you ever are."</p><p>Mark shifted then, moving even closer, one hand reaching out to twine their fingers together. "I know I love you because even when you're grating on my last fucking nerve, I don't want you to go away. I know the irritation will pass and I know I don't want to be angry because I don't ever want to push you away. I don't want to wake up one day and know that the day before was the last time we ever spoke, or saw each other."</p><p>Ethan's heart felt like it was trying to break free from behind his ribs, his throat dry as he watched Mark's lips shape the words. Mark sounded earnest, voice the same as when he'd told Ethan that he was always in his corner; always rooting for him and proud of him. Mark squeezed his hand gently and he refocused, looking up. </p><p>"And Amy thinks you're an incredible person. Sweet, mature. Cute as a bunny, in her exact words," Mark gave a breathless little hiccup of a laugh, using his free hand to wipe at his eyes where stubbornly unshed tears were clumping his lashes. "And she loves me. She's in love with me. But she loves you too, and this part of the conversation is really the part we kind of all need to have together, but she's also a little bit in love with you, and if you decided you have enough room in your heart for her too, that's not exactly a downside."</p><p>And, the thing was... Ethan could imagine it. Far too easily. Had imagined it before, though not without shame and guilt. </p><p>Falling asleep with his arms around a slender waist, a broad chest pressed against the backs of his shoulders. Could imagine tucking himself up against Amy's side on movie nights like he always did, and instead of pressing a kiss to her cheek, pressing one against her mouth. Turning his head the other way for another kiss; this one with stubble that would scrape the corners of his mouth. He'd thought about the warmth of two bodies and twice the amount of love and comfort to keep him afloat on the bad days. </p><p>"Ethan?" Mark prompted gently, squeezing his hand again. </p><p>He realised he'd zoned out into his thoughts again and he sucked in a breath, desperately trying to realign his mind so he could actually contribute towards this remarkably one-sided conversation. </p><p>"It won't be easy," he realised, unease and panic creeping in. Nothing about being somewhat famous was - they had little privacy and everyone had an opinion on every minute detail of their lives. What Mark was suggesting would blow everything up - and for a very long time. One of Youtube's biggest stars coming out as not straight, a polyamorous relationship, another Youtuber's sexuality and relationship announced to the world. </p><p>And what if it all fucked up? What if Mark and Amy changed their minds? What if the stress was too much or the hate was too intense or it just didn't work out the way the three of them were hoping it would?</p><p>
  <em>Breathe.</em>
</p><p>The reminder did not come from his own spiralling internal monologue but from Mark's voice, low and soothing in his ear as he was pulled into a safe embrace, his next breath filled with the scent of Mark's aftershave and the faint, lingering trace of cake where Mark had devoured another few slices once the criminalising eye of the camera was gone. Mark's arms wrapped around him and pulled them both downwards, until they were laying on their sides against his comforter. </p><p>"Don't decide anything yet," Mark whispered, thumb rubbing soothing circles against his shoulder, his other hand settling against Ethan's hair, stroking through the last of the spray that clung to his locks. "There's no time limit on this, Ethan. There's no pressure. I just... I needed you to know, okay? I wanted you to know how I felt. Because you're important to me," Mark murmured lowly, squeezing him gently with just the right about of pressure that Ethan liked. </p><p>"You're important to me too," he mumbled, tucking his nose down against Mark's chest. It was the only thing that felt safe to say, something honest but relatively inconsequential as he tried to process everything that had been said in the last... However long they'd been sat there.</p><p>Mark's heartbeat was strong and steady beneath his cheek and the slow, deep breaths Mark was taking must've eventually lulled him to sleep because he slowly became aware of himself again to the hazy sight of Mark's lashes brushing against his cheekbones, his exhales level and quiet as he slumbered. </p><p>And, fuck, but Mark wasn't someone that trusted easily with his vulnerability. He hated being touched and he hated being prone around other people, and yet here he was; fast asleep and curled around Ethan, handing him his faith on a silver platter. Unguarded, explicit in his trust.</p><p>"Watching people sleep is a sign of psychopathy," Mark rumbled without opening his eyes. Ethan must've been staring for longer than he'd thought, because his neck had a crick from holding the awkward position for so long. </p><p>"Hi," he breathed, watching the corners of Mark's mouth tip upwards. </p><p>"Hi," Mark echoed, letting out a soft sigh, arms tightening a little around Ethan. "You didn't run away."</p><p>"You stayed."</p><p>"Always," Mark replied, lashes sweeping up to reveal dark, warm eyes. They were the colour of rich coffee in the sunlight, deep and smoky and still a little hazy with the fog of sleep that still clung to them. </p><p>"Is this what it'd be like? Us?" he asked quietly. This haze of safety and warmth, something that had been present before in Mark's company but now seemed amplified, adjusted into something sweeter, with more depth. </p><p>"I think..." Mark began, voice gravelly and low, "that this has always been us."</p><p>And it was such a short answer - relatively nondescript at surface level, but it was so fucking <em>gentle</em> and Ethan knew that there was more to the words, knew that they weren't just a cop-out. And it made him feel so giddy and warm that for a brief moment he forgot that, Mark's confession aside, nothing had technically changed yet, moving forwards before he could think about it. </p><p>He stopped himself an inch from Mark's mouth, breath hitching as he realised what he'd been about to do. Leaning closer meant he could see the residue left behind from Mark's tears on his lashes, meant he could count the very faint dusting of freckles almost hidden against Mark's tanned skin. It meant he could see in perfect clarify the way that Mark gave a thought careful consideration before he softened, looking sleep-rumpled and touchable and unfairly perfect against the navy blue of Ethan's sheets.</p><p>"You can. If you want to. Amy and I agreed that it's okay," Mark permitted quietly, tentative but truthful. Another vulnerability offered up like the sweetest of tokens, gifted to Ethan and for themselves only, with no fanfare or purpose other than curating and cultivating what had already formed between them. </p><p>And fuck, but Ethan had spent the last three years thinking about Mark's mouth. How plush it was, and how in the winter months his lips got a little darker - kiss-bitten by the bitter winds. They seemed to be permanently and ever so slightly chapped where Mark had a tendency to rub his mouth, lick his lips and bite at them when he was talking or thinking, and Ethan had often wondered about the stubble that usually dusted Mark's jaw.</p><p>Would it tickle? Burn?</p><p>A tiny, self-destructive voice within him whispered <em>what if he kisses you and realises he's still straight?</em></p><p>"If you want to, but you're too scared to move first, tell me," Mark prompted gently, one hand reaching up so his knuckles brushed Ethan's jaw, ghosting over little pink scars and the first hint of stubble where it was starting to grow back. </p><p>"I'm too scared," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.</p><p>Mark's hand spread until it was cupping his jaw, unbearably gentle as he ran his thumb along the edge of his jawbone, watching him for another quiet moment before he shuffled forwards, closing that last scent inch. It was chaste - little more than a sweetheart's first kiss, shy and brief and a little awkward with the angle. But Mark's lips were plush, a little dry but not unpleasant and the touch left his own lips tingling. He licked at them subconsciously, fighting back a smile. </p><p>"Not as different as I'd expected it to be," Mark admitted after a moment, tender and hushed in this little bubble they'd created around themselves. Ethan smiled at that, and they settled into another lapse of silence for a short while. </p><p>"I thought... I thought when Unus Annus was over, that I'd lost a piece of myself," he admitted after a moment, surprising himself with his forthcoming honesty. "I felt like it was all going to stop with the clock. Our time together and how close we became. I didn't want to let it go. It was like it was this part of <em>you</em> that I could have, too. And I didn't want to lose that either."</p><p>"I can't promise forever. Nobody has forever," Mark exhaled, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. "But I can promise you the time that I have. I guess we kind of are like Unus and Annus in that regard. We're on a time limit; a cosmic one. And I know that I want to spend the time that I have with you."</p><p>Ethan let out a soft breath and kissed him again, palm drifting to Mark's chest, to lay over the steady beat of his heart. </p><p>What was that saying? Whenever something died, something else came to life?</p><p>Unus Annus had ended, but it felt like the rest of his life was just beginning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you happen to enjoy my writing and have something you'd like to entrust me with, please don't hesitate to <a href="https://krymmenosprompts.tumblr.com/">send me a prompt.</a><br/>Thank you so much to everyone that supports my writing and has taken the time to read, kudos and comment.<br/>-JJH</p></blockquote></div></div>
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